


I'll Be There For You ('Cause You're There For Me Too)

by thinmint_writer



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Scarlet Witch (Comic), Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Best Friends, Instant Best Friends, Not Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, Other, Peter is a smol bean, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), They help each other out, Unless you want it to be, kind of brother and sister, not romantic - Freeform, they leave the fight, thinking about making this a longer series, wanda and peter, wanda maximoff is not a monster
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-29
Updated: 2019-06-10
Packaged: 2020-02-10 00:30:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18649243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thinmint_writer/pseuds/thinmint_writer
Summary: Wanda was done running. Done fighting for something that she didn't even really believe in. She was done making herself out to be a monster, because all of that led to all of this. The only thing more dangerous than being a monster is believing you are one.But at least she made a friend.---In which Wanda Maximoff gets fed up with the teams stupidity in Civil War and she and Peter Parker leave the fight and become best friends. He helps her elude the authorities, and she finally gets to go to high school. But will she be found?





	1. This Is Not Our Place

**Author's Note:**

> UPDATE: this is now a full book (originally in my marvel one shots series). It is removed from the series and is it's own independent work.

This was all Wanda's fault.

At least, that's what she thought.

If she hadn't let go of the bomb... if she hadn't killed all those people, maybe the Sokovia Accords never would've been created.

Maybe Tony and Steve never would've had their argument.

Maybe the team wouldn't have chosen sides.

Maybe they wouldn't all be standing here, in an evacuated airport, ripping each other apart.

It was all her fault.

She watched as the world she had finally rebuilt after HYDRA came crumbling down. She looked around. The heroes of the world had all turned against each other. Steve and Tony were practically beating each other. Natasha and Clint, best friends, were wrestling it out on the ground. Rhodey and Sam were going at each other in the air. Vision, the Black Panther, and Bucky were against everyone on their respective opposing teams. The two bug guys, whatever their names were, were using their strange abilities on each other.

Wanda just watched. She couldn't do this. She couldn't really believe in this, right? Did she really believe in this? She didn't even remember.

Everything had happened so fast. She just watched from behind a stack of crates, trying not to cry. Because this was all her fault.

Suddenly, the Ant-Man, who was no longer the size of an ant, rather a giant, threw Spider-Man, sending him hurtling through the air. Right towards her.

Wanda tried to move away, but she wasn't thinking straight. The man in red-and-blue spandex was sent crashing into the wooden crates, knocking the both of them to the ground. Wanda rolled over, feeling a slight pain in her side. A small groan escaped her mouth, and she sat up.

Spider-Man stood up with a moan, turning around as he suddenly became aware of Wanda's presence. "Holy sh*t!" he cried, and instantly shot a web at her. He was afraid. Without thinking, Wanda sent a large blast of energy towards him, knocking him back into the pile of splinters.

What had she become? She was a monster. And it was her own fault. Did she choose the wrong side? No. But there was no right side in this fight; and that was what scared her. Everyone was fighting for what they believed in, but she didn't believe in any of it. Each team sold lies to get the upper hand; each team was at a disadvantage to the other. There would be no winning in this fight, because no one would surrender.

She took a few steps closer, and the man scrambled further into the pile of broken crates, begging her to stop. Except Spider-Man didn't sound like a man. He sounded like a boy. He was breathing heavily, like he was hurt. Suddenly, Wanda couldn't help herself anymore. Using her telekinesis, she pulled the mask off.

What she saw was a boy, probably somewhere around her age. He had a black eye, and his lip was busted and bleeding. He looked terrified. Of her. And that was when Wanda decided she'd had enough.

She held out her hand for the boy. "Come with me." He was hesitant, and she knew he was still afraid. "I promise I'm not going to hurt you. We're leaving." He put his hand in hers, and she helped him up from the ground, pulling him close to her. She then projected the red energy out of her hands, pushing the pair up into the air and away from the battle. They were now a hundred yards or so away from the airport, and she brought them back to the ground, letting go of the boy in her arms.

He collapsed to the ground, hunched over and still breathing heavily. "Why did you do that?"

Wanda sat down in the grass next to him. "Because you're a kid."

"So are you."

"But it's all my fault."

She heard the boy sigh. "I know who you are. And I know it's not your fault."

Wanda began to pick at the grass growing where she sat. "You're afraid of me."

She heard the boy give a strained laugh, groaning a little as he did so. "I'm afraid of everything, Ms Maximoff."

"Call me Wanda."

He looked at her, puzzled. "How old are you?"

She let out a breath. "Seventeen. You?"

"Fifteen. And I'm Peter Parker, by the way."

Wanda heard a loud crash and winced. She couldn't stand to be near the fighting. They were fighting, but there was nothing to be won. Only blood to be spilled. And it was all her fault.

"Hey, Ms Max- I mean Wanda," Peter began worriedly, noticing the strange expression on her face. "Are you alright?"

She took a deep breath, squeezing her eyes shut tightly. She was more concerned with why there was such a young kid at the fight than her own well being. He needed to get away. "Yeah, I'm fine. Do you have somewhere to go?"

Peter nodded a little. "Do you?"

"Nowhere I ever plan on going back to," she said stoically. The ruins of Sokovia; the Avengers compound; those were her homes. She would never return.

Peter let out a grunt as he stood up out of the grass, helping Wanda up as she had done for him. "Then you're coming with me. This is no place for people like us."

"Like what?" Wanda asked curiously.

"Innocent people that get pulled into murderous fights," Peter said with a breath.

"I'm not as innocent as you may think I am," Wanda told him, looking down at the ground. "Even before the bomb... I did things. I deserve this. This is my place."

Peter looked at her, almost like he was studying her. "This is not our place. We belong... somewhere else. Anywhere else. And I have a place we can stay... for the time-being."

After a few minutes, they decided to leave. Peter put his mask back on, and they began walking to the bus stop about a mile away from the airport. If they listened really hard, they could still hear the crashes. But only if the world was totally silent. After five minutes or so, the bus arrived, and Peter paid their fare with money he had put in his boot, just in case.

Sure, it was a little awkward, two injured teenagers wearing strange clothes on a public bus in Germany, one wearing a mask. But they both wanted out so bad, that they didn't care about the strange looks they received. No one dared to ask them a question. Not when it was obvious they had just emerged from a fight.

After twenty minutes or so, they finally reached their destination, and the pair got off the bus. Throughout their journey, they'd had small conversations now and then, but hadn't spoken much.

"Where are we?" Wanda asked, looking up at the building in front of them. It was fancier than she had expected, but then she remembered he came with Stark. The man she had hated just a day ago. Now, she didn't hate any of them, she just wanted the fighting to stop.

"A hotel," Peter told her, guiding her inside. They stepped into the elevator in the lobby, and Peter pressed floor eleven, the button lighting up as he did so. They didn't speak in the elevator, but stood silently. Wanda rocked back and forth on her heels a little bit, and Peter stood still, staring at his reflection in the metal door through his mask. When the doors opened, he showed her down the hallway to his room, and he pulled the key-card out of a pocket his companion hadn't noticed before.

Peter needed to look at his injuries, and in order to do that, he needed to get out of his suit. So he sat Wanda down on the couch in the extension of his room, then walked into the main sleeping area, where he quickly changed into a pair of sweatpants and a white t-shirt. He had a bruise on his abdomen from where Ant-Man, and then Wanda, had thrown him into the pile of crates, and then the cuts and scratches on his face, as well as a black eye that was forming. But other than that, he was fine.

The boy walked back into the extension, where he found Wanda sitting exactly where he had left her. She hadn't moved a muscle, having been deep in thought. As he looked over her, Peter noticed that her clothes were ripped and dirty from the fight. "I have some spare clothes that might fit you," he offered, and she looked up at him. "Only if you want to change out of those."

"Oh, um, sure," the girl stuttered. He was being so nice to her, when less than an hour ago he had been cowering away from her. What had changed? Maybe nothing had. Maybe she just wasn't the monster she had convinced herself to be. Peter walked into the bedroom and returned with a pair of plaid pajama pants and a shirt, both neatly folded. He handed them to her, and she walked into the bathroom to change, closing the door behind her.

As she changed, Peter took a rag he found in the kitchenette, wet it in the sink, and began to wipe the blood from his face. It was a nice feeling, being clean of the sticky red fluid that's supposed to stay inside of your body. He felt gross when he had it on his face. Just plain gross.

Wanda was surprised to find the clothes that Peter offered her fit. The shirt had a science pun written on the front: a triangle with a caption reading 'find x', with the x circled in red. Not hilarious, but it seemed he was into that sort of thing. Before she left the bathroom, she used a wet towel to clean the blood off of her face and the grime off of her skin. It felt good to be clean again. She also ran a comb she found in the drawers through her tangled hair, pulling out bits of dried blood with the teeth.

When she exited the bathroom, Peter was sitting on the couch, holding a wet rag up to his eye. She moved and sat next to him, feeling him shift his weight on the cushion as she did so. "Do you want to watch a movie?" Peter asked. "They have Star Wars: A New Hope on demand."

"Oh, sure," Wanda replied, still stuttering slightly. Peter took the remote into his hand and went to the movie, lowering the volume as it began to play. He had seen the movie dozens of times, and he was sure the girl next to him had seen it before as well, which she had. And as long as they were in this hotel room together, they should talk. After all, with everything that had happened, he was certain they both needed someone to talk to.

"So, Wanda," the boy began as the introduction to the movie played. "Tell me some things about yourself. If you want to, of course."

She sighed and began to speak, her voice quivering a bit. "I grew up in Sokovia, but when I was ten my parents were killed in an explosion. My brother and I... we did some things that we're not proud of. When I was barely sixteen, the Avengers came to Sokovia twice: once to steal the scepter and once to fight Ultron. I fought with them in the second battle. And then my brother... he died, saving a child." Her voice broke a bit, all the horrible memories from her childhood, the fight in Sokovia, and the fight at the airport coming back to her. She quickly composed herself, remembering Peter probably didn't want to hear her sob story. "And I work with them now. Or I guess worked with them."

Peter put his hand on her knee, which calmed her down almost instantly, to her surprise. "We've all got issues. The strongest people get the most difficult ones, because the weak can't handle them."

Wanda gave the boy a slight smile. "What about you?"

"Well," he started. "I was born, obviously. My parents died in a plane crash when I was younger, so I lived with my aunt and uncle. But my uncle was killed a little while ago in a robbery-gone-wrong, so it's just us now. I was bit by a spider, hence the..." He paused and gestured to where he had folded his suit and put it back in it's heavy case. "And then Mr Stark showed up in my apartment one day, and now here I am."

Wanda let out a small chuckle. "So it looks like neither of us drew a fair set of cards, huh?"

"Guess not," Peter agreed.

Over the next few hours, the two continued talking. They got to know a lot about one another, and even became friends. Not just 'acquaintance' friends, but actual close friends. And then Happy barged in, ruining it all.

"Kid," he said, walking into the room. "Tony told me you and the witch girl disappeared. Are you here?"

"Uh, yeah," Peter replied, and Happy came walking into the extension, stopping in his tracks when he saw Wanda.

"And you brought her here?" the man asked worriedly. He had been certain the girl had run away, simply to escape the law. Peter only nodded in response. "Peter, you could get in serious trouble. She's in serious trouble."

"For what?" Peter asked, turning to face Wanda quickly, confusion plastered across his face.

"For choosing the wrong side," she told him quietly, fiddling with her hands. This was all her fault. She was dangerous. She was a monster.

"Come on, Tony's at the hospital with his friend," Happy told the girl. "I'll take you there, and he'll know where you're supposed to go."

Wanda nodded and stood up off the couch. She quickly changed out of the comfortable clothes Peter had given her, and back into the dirty ones she had worn in the fight. She folded the shirt and pants and placed them in his open bag on the bed.

As she followed Happy out of the room, Peter grabbed her wrist firmly, and she turned around. The boy quickly pulled her into a hug, which she returned, a bit surprised. It had been a long time since anyone had shown her that kind of affection; not since her brother died.

"Remember," the boy whispered in her ear. "You're not dangerous."

"Thank you," she said quietly, trying to withhold the tears that flooded her eyes. Then she pulled away and followed Happy out of the hotel. In the car, she stuck her hands in her jacket pockets, and discovered something there. She pulled out a small slip of paper.

On the front, the boy had written his phone number, along with the words: If you're ever in Queens, call me.

Wanda smiled and folded it up, putting it in a secret pocket on the inside of her jacket. She knew what was going to happen to her when she arrived at the hospital. She knew Tony had called the authorities. She knew that she would be arrested, restrained, and imprisoned.

But it wasn't her fault.

The team had picked a fight where there didn't need to be one, and everyone involved would pay a price, whether or not they chose the 'right side'. Because there was no right side. There was no side where they didn't pay for their actions.

She may have drawn the final line, but the first was created years ago, before she even had her abilities. She wasn't dangerous, and this wasn't her fault. She would still pay the price.

Wanda was done running. Done fighting for something that she didn't even really believe in. She was done making herself out to be a monster, because all of that led to all of this. The only thing more dangerous than being a monster is believing you are one.

But at least she made a friend.


	2. What Are You Doing Here?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter gets a text message from an unknown number, and despite the fact that his spider-senses are blaring at 100, he agrees to meet with the mysterious person at midnight.  
> And what happens when that person turns out to be an old friend, looking for some help to survive?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are you guys liking this story? I'm thinking about posting it to Wattpad one day. I'm also thinmint_writer there.

**About Four Months Later…**

It was early November, and Peter’s life had seemingly gone back to normal after the whole fiasco with the Avengers, and then the one with Liz’s dad. Now she lived in Oregon, and he was once again without a girlfriend. 

He worried about Wanda often, though. She told him she chose the wrong side, and Happy said she was in serious trouble. He worried something had happened to her. He heard something about all of the Avengers on Captain America’s team being arrested. That would include the sixteen-year-old red-haired beauty known as the Scarlet Witch. 

But, whether or not they had ever gone to prison, which was all rumors and speculation, the public did know one thing: everyone on Steve Roger’s team, plus Natasha Romanoff, was a fugitive of the law. If you saw them, you were supposed to call in about it. But being superheroes and all, some of them former spies, no one had ever seen them. Or heard from them. It was like they had all disappeared off the face of the earth. They knew how to go unseen; it was what they were best at. 

That was until one gloomy night four months after the fact. Having to constantly be on the move, Wanda was running low on money and was beginning to run out of safe places to stay. So she bought one last plane ticket, headed from Scotland to JFK in New York. She knew someone there, and hopefully he would be able to help her out. 

After the eight-hour flight to New York, she finally arrived. Having only a small duffel bag, she walked out of the airport and called a taxi. All she knew about Peter was that he lived in Queens, so that’s where she was going. She didn’t know how publicly advertised the hunt for Captain America’s team was nowadays, but she wore a hoodie just in case. The taxi dropped her off at a McDonalds in Queens, which she went into, glad to get out of the rain that had begun to fall. 

She ordered a small cup of black coffee, so she wouldn’t get kicked out, and took a seat at a small table in the corner. Then she pulled out the small slip of paper she had kept with her all that time. 

_If you’re ever in Queens, call me._

Wanda knew he hadn’t meant to actually wait until she wound up in Queens, because until a few days ago it was unlikely that she ever would. But Natasha Romanoff was a fugitive for helping Steve Rogers escape. She didn’t want Peter to have to go on the run because he knew where she was, or was helping her. So once Steve got them all off the Raft, she had never messaged him. 

But now she needed to, so she typed the number into her phone. She had read it a hundred times over, and could recite it from her heart by that point. And then, after deleting the number and retyping it several times, nervous to make contact, she finally typed her message. 

**W: Hey Pete. I need your help.**

It was nearly midnight, so she didn’t expect a reply so soon, or even at all. But then she got one. 

**P: Who is this?**

**W: I can’t tell you. I just need you to trust me.**

There was no reply, convincing Wanda that he had decided she was some psychopath, or a crazy wrong number. But a few minutes later, she got a text back. 

**P: Alright. What do you need?**

**W: I need you to meet me at the McDonalds near Flushing Meadows.**

Wanda had seen the sign for the park on their way to the restaurant, and she hoped that since he lived there, he would know where to go. 

**P: I’ll be there in half an hour.**

Peter was surprised to receive texts so late. He had just been drifting off to sleep after a long night of being Spider-Man and completing an essay for English when his phone went off. Now he was trying to sneak out of the apartment, without being Spider-Man. He had no idea who messaged him, or if he should trust them, but for some reason he felt he should. 

So he changed from pajamas into jeans and a blue sweatshirt with his school logo on it. The sweatshirt went down past his wrists, which was good. He had no idea who messaged him, so he wore his web shooters just in case. Just in case. 

He managed to sneak out of the apartment, grabbing his rain jacket on the way out, since it had begun dripping. Not exactly pouring, but heavy enough he would be soaked after the twenty-minute walk to the McDonalds. 

When he arrived, he stepped in the door, unzipping his rain jacket as he did so, folding it over his arms and looking around. Since it was so late, there was barely anyone in the restaurant; only three or four people. But in the back corner, there was a figure with a hood, sipping coffee and staring out the window. That was who he came to meet. He could tell; his spider-sense was ringing off the walls, and he swallowed before continuing forward. 

He walked closer to them, stepping carefully and quietly. He still had no idea who it was. When he was standing behind the booth, he cleared his throat. “You needed me?” Then the figure turned around, and he saw the face he was beginning to doubt he’d ever see again. 

Wanda Maximoff. His brown eyes met her sea-green ones. Her red hair was pulled over her shoulder, hanging down in wet strands. Her hood was pulled forward just enough that if you saw her from any farther away than Peter was, you’d never know it was her. His breath hitched in his throat. 

“Hey, Peter,” the girl said quietly. “How’ve you been?” 

Peter shook his head a little snapping out of his trance and sliding into the booth across from her at the table. “I’ve been mediocre. Got a girlfriend. Found out her dad was an alien weapons dealer. Fought him in an explosive plane crash, that was fun.” Wanda smiled a little bit at his sarcasm, but the situation remained heavy. “But now Liz lives in Oregon, so I’m girlfriend-less again.” The boy shrugged. 

Then he looked into her eyes again, his dark brown ones meeting hers. They tore into her soul and ripped her apart, and for a moment she thought about walking out and leaving. She didn’t want to drag him into this; Happy warned him not to associate with her. But he didn’t leave when he found out it was her; maybe he wants to stay. Or maybe he feels guilty for letting her walk out like that, only to be imprisoned. She was pulled out of her thoughts as Peter cleared his throat. 

“Wanda…” he began quietly. “Why are you here? Why do you need me?” 

She took a deep breath. “You said to call you if I was ever in Queens. I know I didn’t call, and I know this isn’t what you imagined, but… I need help.” 

“What happened to you? After you left…” He didn’t finish, just continued examining her face. Wanda took a deep breath. 

“When I got to the hospital,” she started. “I knew Tony had called the authorities, but I was done running. We were arrested, taken to a secure prison in the middle of the ocean; the Raft. A few days later, Steve came and broke us out. We all had to split up and go… anywhere. I had to be on the move at all times. Never stay in one place more than three weeks. I did odd little jobs to get money, like waitressing or bagging groceries. I actually dyed my hair black for a while… it washed out a month or so ago though.” She paused, looking at the boy with the same fascination he seemed to look at her with. They were studying one another, trying to make sure this was all real. Wars between good people never seem real; they never will, but they are. “I need somewhere to stay for a while, and you are literally the only friend I have left.” 

The boy sighed, tapping his fingers against the plastic table repeatedly, to some sort of rhythm. “So what you’re asking is… can you stay with me for a while?” The girl nodded. “I don’t know how my aunt would feel about that. I mean, Wanda, we’re friends, and I like you, but you’re also a wanted fugitive. If we get caught, my aunt could go to prison, and who knows what they’d do if they found out about me…” 

“I understand,” she assured him, putting her hand over his. Peter twitched slightly at the feeling of the fingerless leather gloves on his skin. “I’ll figure something out.” She began to stand up, preparing to leave and likely stay in some sort of homeless shelter for the night, and until she could find somewhere else. Before she could, Peter reached out and grabbed her arm. 

“Wait,” he demanded, and Wanda slowly sat back down. Peter scrunched up his face momentarily, clearly thinking hard, before he said: “You know what, screw it. I can’t leave you alone. You’re coming home with me.” 

“But Peter,” she began. “Your aunt… and you. I’m a wanted person.” They had completely switched sides in the argument. “I can’t do that to you guys.” 

“And I can’t do this to you,” he countered, standing up. “I’ll figure out how to explain it to my aunt later. C’mon, we’re going to my apartment.” He began walking away, and Wanda quickly followed, carrying her duffle in one hand and her empty coffee cup in the other, which she tossed in the trash on their way out. It was still raining, but it was light enough that Peter would be okay without a jacket, so he offered his to Wanda, who gladly accepted. 

Peter walked in a slightly hurried manner on the way home, given a war criminal was following on his heels. If they got caught, it was all over. They would both be shipped off to some maximum-security prison. Guilty by association. Guilty for hiding a fugitive. Guilty for being enhanced. 

When they reached his apartment complex, Wanda pulled her hood tight over face and looked down. Peter took her gloved hand in his, and they rushed into the elevator. When they reached his floor, they dashed to his apartment, making sure that if there was anyone still lingering in the hallway, they wouldn’t see them. 

Peter quickly unlocked the door, and they quietly stepped inside, shutting the door silently behind them. They’d done it. Or at least they thought so, until they heard the voice behind them. 

“Peter Benjamin Parker, where the f*ck have you been? And who is this?” 

“Oh… Aunt May…” Peter gasped awkwardly, trying to play the situation off. She already knew he was Spider-Man, but she would never let him go out this late. He could tell she was mad. Really, really mad. “I swear this isn’t what it looks like!” 

Wanda pulled her hood further over her face, looking down at the ground. They were supposed to have time to figure out what to say. 

“Really?” the older woman asked skeptically, rolling her eyes and tapping her foot. “Because it looks like you snuck out to meet a girl, and brought her back to stay? Why does she have a bag? Who is this girl Peter?” The woman fired questions at the boy faster than he could answer them. 

Wanda sighed and looked up, pulling off her hood. May gasped, and the younger girl knew she recognized her. She had been in the news a lot back around the time of the incident. “H-hi,” she stuttered. “I’m Wanda.” 

The woman stepped back, visibly afraid of the girl. Of the lies that had been told about her. Of the truths that had been spoken, as well. Everyone said that she was dangerous. And maybe she was, but not on purpose. 

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Wanda assured the woman. 

“May,” Peter sighed, stepping towards his aunt. “She saved me. You remember how I told you about the fight at the airport.” May nodded cautiously. “She’s the one who got me out of there. We became friends. She saved me, and now it’s my turn to save her.” 

“Peter, she’s a criminal,” his aunt argued, still in shock. “A fugitive. She’s dangerous! How could you bring her here?” 

“Because she needed someplace to be! And she’s not dangerous!” Peter looked towards Wanda, who was once again hiding her face, but this time out of shame. “She’s a good person that just made a few mistakes! You need to see that!” 

“Peter-” his aunt began, before he cut her off. 

“Don’t ‘Peter’ me, May!” He suddenly lowered his voice, realizing it was one in the morning. “I need to help my friend. She’s not dangerous. She’s like me.” This brought about a heavy silence as Wanda looked up at Peter. “She was given this power that no one should have, like me. She’s made some mistakes while trying to do the right thing, like me.” Peter took another step closer to her. “She needs our help May. Because the entire world thinks she’s a monster.” 

May sighed. She knew her nephew was right. Given the right circumstances, and the wrong mistakes, Peter could appear as a villain as well. But sometimes he was too trusting; others, he was great at judging people’s true characters. So this one time, despite all of her instincts, May decided to listen to her nephew. She knew he wouldn’t give up anyway; not when it came to helping a friend. 

“Wanda?” he asked, and the girl looked up slowly. “Why don’t you go to my room and get settled, I’m sure you’re tired. You can move the clothes in my bottom dresser drawer and put yours there, and you can choose between the top and bottom bunks. Alright?” The girl nodded and slowly walked to the room down the hallway the boy had directed her towards. 

It was a fairly nice room. Nicer than any place she had stayed for a long time, excluding the time she spent with the Avengers. Like the boy told her, she moved the clothes from the bottom drawer of his chest to another one, and replaced them with her belongings: three pairs of pants, two pairs of shorts, one sweater, eight shirts, two pairs of pajamas, deodorant, toothbrush and toothpaste, hairbrush, gloves, socks, and one spare pair of shoes, as well as her phone charger, which she plugged into an outlet by his desk. She also had her red-leather jacket, but she left that in the duffel, which she stuffed in a corner of the room. 

Afterwards, she closed the door and quickly changed into her pajamas. Once she had closed the drawer again, she examined the beds. It appeared Peter used the bottom bunk, so she opted for the top one, flicking off the light before climbing the rickety metal ladder. She hadn’t realized how tired she was until her head hit the pillow, and she fell asleep almost immediately. 

Peter and his aunt sat in the kitchen, the dim lighting creating an almost eerie effect as the two stared at each other from opposite sides of their kitchen table. Like he had done at the restaurant, Peter began tapping his fingers to an ever-changing rhythm against the table, a habit he had picked up when he was nervous. And he sure as hell was nervous. 

“I need to know the story, Peter,” May sighed. “You can’t just sneak an ex-superhero into our apartment without a story.” 

Peter sighed, almost wistfully. Wistful about what, he didn’t know, but wistful. “During the war, I got thrown… from really far up. I happened to crash into her, along with some wooden boxes. Then, out of fear, I tried to attack her, so she pushed me back. And then she found out I was a kid like her, and… something just snapped. She was done fighting. So we left, and we hung out, and we became friends. And then she had to leave… and she was arrested, but she escaped… and she texted me earlier saying she needed help. I went to meet her, and I couldn’t just leave her there, so I brought her back here.” 

His aunt leaned back in her chair, rubbing her temple. “You realize why this all sounds unbelievable right?” Peter nodded. “This girl, whether or not she is dangerous, is a wanted criminal. I don’t even want to think about the charges we all would face if they found out she was here. And if they found out about you...” 

“But they won’t, May,” he insisted quietly. “I’m careful.” 

She shook her head. “I don’t care how careful you are. The world outside that door is a living hell for people like you, just because of who you are. They don’t see you as the good guys anymore.” Her voice wavered, and she stopped. “If they find you... you will go away with the rest of them. Pledge or be incarcerated, that’s the law now. No more secret identity. No more Spider-Man. Do you understand all of this?” 

Peter didn’t answer, he just sat there quietly. Of course he understood it all. He’d spent the past four months lying awake at night, thinking about nothing but the fact that he’s just a pawn in their filthy game. He ran over a thousand different scenarios in his head: what would happen to him if he’s found out? What would happen to May? To Ned? 

So yeah, of course he knew the risks. He knew what could happen to all of them. But isn’t it worth it, to save a friend? He thought so, and because it could be argued that Wanda saved his life, May finally agreed she could stay. 

Sometime around three in the morning, Peter finally stumbled into his bedroom, where he saw the seventeen-year-old sleeping peacefully on his top bunk. He smiled a bit, knowing she must have been exhausted after all her time running. He shut the door behind him and walked over to the bed, collapsing into the bottom bunk and falling asleep within a minute.


	3. Is Scarlett Too Obvious?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter and May help Wanda prepare for high school. This includes makeovers and name changes; Wanda's a whole new girl now (but still Wanda Maximoff at heart).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So even though there's no IronWidow in this story (so far) I have resigned myself to the fate that most Ao3 fics I write are going to be Tony and Nat. Other characters too, but they'll be (one of) the main ship(s). I can't help it I love them so f*cking much it's getting irrational.

Two weeks after Wanda moved in with the Parker’s, thing weren’t going horribly wrong. They weren’t going ‘good’, per say, but for the first time in months she didn’t feel the need to look over her shoulder every other second. 

Wanda and May had actually grown to be somewhat ‘friends’. Not so much friends, so much as they got along well. They liked some of the same movies and tv shows, as well as the same foods. Peter was glad they were getting along, as otherwise this would’ve been... difficult. 

When he goes to school each day, she stays at their apartment and does certain things. She’s read a few of his books, done a little bit of research on where the fugitive hunt was going (it appeared to be slowing down; thank god), as well as experimented a bit in the kitchen. She had made two successful batches of brownies, one successful lasagna, and one failed lemon pound cake (she doesn’t like to talk about that). 

Eventually though, Wanda grew bored of staying in the apartment all day. Not that she would ever complain; they were risking everything to provide her this sanctuary, and she was eternally grateful to Peter and his aunt. 

Thankfully, Peter brought it up first. 

“Aren’t you bored in here all day?” he asked the red-head over dinner one night. They were having Thai takeout, as May had attempted to make a casserole of some sort and failed miserably. 

Wanda just shrugged. “Kind of? But it’s way better than living in a motel in Edinburgh.” The boy nodded and looked at his aunt before continuing. 

“How long has it been since you were in school?” 

Wanda had to stop and think before answering. “I was ten, I think.” She paused as the brown-eyes boy’s eyes went wide. “After... the explosion, Pietro and I went on the run for a few months to avoid being sent to an orphanage and being separated. Then we signed up for the HYDRA experiments... it’s been a long time.” 

“But you’ve been getting an education?” May asked, looking at her. The girl once again shrugged. 

“More or less.” She paused to take a bite of her pad thai. “There was... some sort of education system in the HYDRA base. Tony used to teach me some things. But no, no formal education since I was ten.” 

Peter pursed his lips and looked at the girl, then at his aunt, then back at the girl. Finally, he sighed. “You should come to school with me.” 

The red-head dropped her chopsticks and choked a bit, forcing her mouth to stay closed so she wouldn’t cough out the food already in it. “What?” she asked after a moment. 

May answered this one. “You can’t sit around here forever, and we’re already breaking enough laws. I’d rather not have child services up my a** if they ever find out I didn’t send a seventeen-year-old to school.” 

“But... what if I get caught?” she asked carefully. Of course she had always wanted to go to high school, but it was never exactly safe for her. And now... god knows it was even less so. 

Peter took a page from the Wanda’s own book and shrugged. “You won’t. You said you dyed your hair black once, right?” She nodded. “Do it again, fake name, maybe a fake beauty mark. Boom; untraceable.” 

Wanda looked towards May with a raised eyebrow, and the woman laughed. “You would be surprised how many spy movies he’s seen with this scenario played out.” 

\--- 

The next day, Saturday, Peter ran out to a convenience store and purchased one box of permanent black hair dye, a little bit of cheap makeup, and two bags of hot cheetos. He got nothing more than a strange look from the man behind the counter, which he shrugged off easily before heading back to their apartment. 

Wanda was on the couch, reading his ‘Superman’ comic as he entered. Her legs were folded underneath her and her arms were propped up on a throw pillow. She put down the flimsy book as he walked into the living room, seeing the plastic bag in his hand. She chuckled as he pulled out the two large bags of cheetos. 

“What?” he asked sarcastically as he handed one of them to her. “Makeovers take energy, and I’m fueling an enhanced metabolism here.” 

The red-head nodded. “Oh. Pietro had to eat a lot too.” They each popped open their bags as May walked into the room, rolling her eyes as she saw the two teenagers snacking. After another few minutes, she ushered both of them into the kitchen and made them wipe their hands as she prepared the hair dye. 

Once Wanda had changed into an old shirt of Peter’s and sat down in a chair in front of the sink, a towel draped over her chest, they were ready to begin. May first started by shampooing the girl’s hair in the sink, then washing it out. The brown-eyed boy watched with mild fascination at the process, while also questioning Wanda onto what her alias could be. 

“What about Gwanda?” he asked, only half joking. 

Trying to hold still and contain her laughter, Wanda muttered; “No.” 

“Landa?” 

“No.” 

“Oh! Linda!” 

“No.” 

“Samantha?” 

“No.” 

“Patricia?” 

“You do realize these are getting worse, right?” 

“Olga... no wait, I heard it. Daisy?” 

“Not really sure I’m a daisy type of girl.” 

“Lynetta?” 

“Getting worse again.” 

“Parker?” 

“Are you deada** trying to name me after yourself?” 

“It’s a girl’s name too!” 

“Not this girl’s name.” 

“Is Scarlett too obvious?” 

“Only a bit.” 

“Diana?” 

“Not feeling it.” 

“Leia?” 

“You can’t name me after ‘Star Wars’ characters, Peter.” 

“Prudence?” 

“I feel like you’re trying.” 

“Sasha?” 

“Maybe.” 

“Kelsey? Kelci?” 

“What’s the difference?” 

“Dunno. Madeline?” 

“No.” 

“Laina?” 

“I don’t hate it.” 

“Maxine.” 

“No.” 

“Michelle?” 

“Are you trying to name me after your friends now?” 

“Laura?” 

“Maybe.” 

“Zendaya?” 

“Might be culturally insensitive.” 

By the time her hair was wrapped in foil and she was ready to wait an hour, May was tired of listening to her nephew’s god-awful ideas of names. “Peter, maybe you should let her think of a name. Yours are... horrible. If you ever have kids, leave it to your wife to name them.” 

“Wait!” Peter protested. “I’ve got one more... just hear me out.” 

“Alright,” Wanda sighed, rolling her eyes. 

“Drumroll please,” the boy announced. When no one moved, he sighed and told them anyway. “Ana!” 

Wanda thought for a moment, biting her lip. “Hmmm. I actually like it.” 

“Yes!” Peter celebrated jumping into the air excitedly. “Now for last names.” 

“Oh no...” 

\--- 

By the time Wanda’s hair was dried, ink black, her name was Ana Django. Satisified with her work, and exasperated with her nephew, May went to enroll the girl in Midtown with Peter. Since it had been a while since she received a formal education, she would be going in as a junior rather than a senior, still one grade above Peter. 

“Alright, now for the makeup look,” Peter said, dumping out what he had bought. Since he knew nothing about makeup, May had given him a small list. How well he executed the list would be the question. He bought one lipgloss, one concealer that he thought looked close enough to her skin shade, one strange powder he also though looked close enough to her skin shade, and a mascara. 

Wanda laughed and pulled the makeup away from him. “No offence Pete, but this might be more of my area.” 

He scoffed. “You don’t know that. In sixth grade Ned and I went as Luke Skywalker and Princess Leia for Halloween. Mascara doesn’t just reapply itself!” 

“As much as I’d love to hear the rest of that story, I think I got this.” Peter sighed and pretended to look extremely downfallen. “You can watch, though.” 

So the brown-eyes boy watched as the now black-haired girl applied her makeup. First putting on the concealer, then the powder, then the lip gloss and mascara. The whole process took about fifteen minutes, mostly because Peter wouldn’t stop talking and Wanda had to talk back. 

When she was done, Peter examined her face. “You look nice. There’s just one thing missing.” He grabbed the tube of mascara, pulled out the wand and held it dangerously close to her face. Then, without warning, he touched it to her cheek and pulled it away, twisting it back into the tube. When Wanda looked back in the mirror, she laughed as she saw the prominent beauty mark on her cheek. 

“Was that really necessary Peter?” 

“Yes!” he exclaimed. “Now they can’t scan for your face.” 

The black-haired girl shook her head. “I’m not that high on the wanted list. Besides, with my new hair I think I’m fine. But thanks for your concern.” 

“You’re welcome.” 

“You know I was being sarcastic right?” 

“I do.” Suddenly, Peter saw the time on the alarm clock behind the girl. “Holy sh*t! I’ve got to go on patrol. I forgot!” In two minutes flat, he was swinging out the window as Wanda stood in their room, laughing and shaking her head. 

In the kitchen, she heard a loud noise and a “F*ck!”, before a loud fit of coughing. She let out another small chuckle before leaving to help May with dinner. 

Her new life wasn’t perfect. She was living with a guy she’d only known for a few months and his aunt that was finally starting warm up to her. She was a fugitive of the law and wanted in over one-hundred-and-seventeen countries. 

But it was still the best life she’d had in a long time.


	4. Announcement

I will, as of now, be updating this story in Wattpad, my preferred format.

My username is thinmint_writer

The book is called “monsters”

Here is the link

[monsters on Wattpad](https://my.w.tt/1HyX4gdHpX)


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